


Her Whispers Make My Ears Hurt

by tanakaempire



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Clinginess, Death, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Widowed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:35:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22947160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanakaempire/pseuds/tanakaempire
Summary: Gundham receives a visit from someone he loves that is no longer with him.
Relationships: Komaeda Nagito/Tanaka Gundham, Roulette - Relationship
Comments: 21
Kudos: 64





	1. 1

For a moment it seemed almost like he was there. When Gundham turned to leave the bathroom, the emptiness eating a void into his heart, he caught the slightest movement in the mirror.  
Gundham stopped cold.  
His return to the mirror was slow. Specters were real, certainly, but if the cause of the movement truly had been _that_ then he'd have to be careful.  
  
Resting his hands upon the rim of the sink, Gundham stared with his half made-up eyes into the reflection of himself.  
The silhouette behind him was quick to reappear in the mirror behind him, the shape of him unmistakable even after his death.  
  
There was sickness on his breath, but Gundham couldn't move as Komaeda's pale, frail arms clung to his waist.  
Neither of them spoke, the breeder entirely unmoving as Nagito's head rested on his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed.  
  
When Gundham's eyes eventually did part from the glass, he found no arms around his neck.  
The feeling of Nagito's body coiling around his was suddenly gone.  
He looked up, and there he was again.  
  
Komaeda's expression was bright and carefree, a cheerful smile on the lips that pressed gentle patches into Gundham's shoulder. Now that he could see him, he could feel his touch again.  
He was wearing what he wore when he died - the hospital dress drew an emphasis to the pale coloration of his face and the pink, tender hue on his cheeks.  
He glanced up once eyes were on him again, a child-like innocence on his face. _'Me?'_ Almost.  
  
Gundham hesitated, lifting a hand only to hold it in place. He futzed with his shirt instead, before the hand finally made it to the top of Nagito's head to ruffle his hair.  
  
Like an animal, Nagito's eyes closed at the touch, resigning to a passive, delighted smile. Then, slipping around to the front, he latched onto Gundham again, enclosing him in a weak, and yet determined, hug.  
Perhaps his visage was incapable of complex thought, as all it could do was hold him like a child would cling to their parent for protection.  
  
Gundham could only stare at himself, wondering if this specter was some kind of malevolent spirit here to feed off his mourning. Was it weak that he'd touched it?  
Was it weaker how quickly he found himself hugging back?  
How much, he realized, he needed to hold him?  
  
The ghost peppered him with more grateful kisses, burying his eyes in his shoulder between sessions of affection.  
  
_He's scared._ Gundham hated realizing that.  
  
And suddenly Gundham worried that Nagito had died terrified. _That would my fault,_ Gundham self-blamed suddenly. _I didn't prepare him well enough._  
Nagito had promised him that he wouldn't die, in some final act of optimism.  
He'd held Gundham's hand, tears stinging both of their eyes, and promised not to die. 'I'm going to get better for you. I promise. I don't want to leave you all by yourself. Okay?'  
  
Gundham wasn't mad at Nagito for failing. He was resentful at himself for crying. He shouldn't have been the weak one.  
He was resentful that he hadn't promised Nagito that it was alright to die.  
Tanaka didn't want him to be buried thinking he'd failed him.  
_You never failed me.  
  
_Gundham didn't want to hold him anymore.  
_I'm being deceived._ He didn't want to relive what happened.  
Who knew if this thing even _was_ Komaeda? It was making him remember too many thing.  
  
He pulled away, headed for the door when something caught his hand.  
With a quick look back to the mirror, he saw Nagito grasping his wrist desperately in both his hands, tugging him back with a terrified unsteadiness.  
The eyes alight with boyish cheer moments before were now flooded with tears that tumbled down his cheeks.  
_'wait, wait, wait,'_ the thing begged without sound, shaking and fragile without Gundham to hold. ' _please, come back. please, please.'  
  
_…  
Gundham was so weak to his own desire. He wandered carefully back, practicing caution as the echo of his husband's tears suddenly disappeared.  
And there it went, clinging to him needily again. Gundham noticed how quickly it breathed. Perhaps it was relieved, or perhaps excited just to touch him.  
And again it bowed its head, pressing soft, delicate kisses to Gundham's collarbone this time. Quickly in succession, as if it worried about disappearing before it could carry out a set number of them.  
  
Everything he did resembled his disease. How small he seemed. How fragile, as if he could fall and break into pieces. How taxing everything seemed for him.  
  
Nagito had never lost his composure in the hospital. No matter what news they had for him, he always tried to put on a brave face, and he never lost his cleverness.  
Seeing him - was this him? - seeing him reduced to whatever childish, terrified existence this was...  
  
Gundham felt weak, gently closing his arms around the figure again and rubbing a soft circle into his back. He could feel each bone of the vertebrae underneath, reflecting how truly, terribly thin Nagito had been during the wake of his cancer.  
  
The breeder drew back, having a seat on the bathtub and allowing the eager spirit to clamor into his lap and wrap itself around him.  
Gundham ran a hand through Nagito's hair, feeling his breaths dislocate. Finally, he crumbled slightly into a hiccup. Then, trying and failing to steel himself, Gundham silently sobbed.  
His eyes stung as they always did when they were adorned with make-up. Within seconds he could feel thick midnight tears gushing out of place in streaks down his cheeks.  
  
And the ghost looked up abruptly, blinking bewildered at him. Then it suddenly seemed horrified, the innocent expression on its face reaching a place of terror over what it had done to him.  
Cupping his face, Nagito kissed at his tears, peppering with all the might he could to cheer or at least encourage the other.  
  
It only made it worse.  
  
Now it was Gundham whose hands trembled. Almost instantly a pang of self-loathing crept in on him. How he hated this weakness within himself.  
  
Somehow he wished he hadn't held him. He hadn't seen him.  
He hadn't opened that still-recovering emotional wound. The stitches in the cut undid themselves and bled through his tears.  
  
' _i'm sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm sorry, please forgive me, i'm sorry,_ ' the ghost was suddenly crying again, unable to speak the words it mouthed. 'don't cry, don't cry...'  
  
Now it was Gundham who needed to be held.  
There was only so much that ghostly arms could warm him from the darkness he'd secluded himself in, but he held the thing all the same.  
It was his turn to cry.  
  
…  
  
Gundham checked the mirror before bed that night, and no one came to greet him.  
That strange need, like an addiction, that pulled at him like a withdrawal.  
How he suddenly ate his previous thoughts and wished to hold him again.  
He could experimentally rest a hand against the glass, not sure if he hoped or dreaded a revival of the silhouette.  
And yet, not a soul came.


	2. 2

It had found him again in his loneliest moment. A reluctant shuffle of movement from the back of the mirror caught Gundham’s attention.  
  
He turned to glance back, but steadily found his eyes on the mirror again as the silhouette became easily recognizable.   
The pale face of Nagito seemed startled, scared by its being noticed. Reluctant to come too close after what it had done the first time.  
  
...  
Gundham had had time to consider after the first appearance of the specter, and found himself giving a careful nod and beckoning the thing near.  
’Come here.’ A ginger suggestion.  
  
The spirit meandered over to him, hesitating as it trembled in front of him. Asking permission.  
 _‘Please?’_ It didn’t even open its mouth, the request begged through stare.  
  
...  
Gundham nodded carefully, allowing Nagito to slip quietly into his embrace and cling to him again.  
Almost immediately Gundham felt a subtle draw from the embrace, almost like a latching, feeding connection.  
  
He allowed it to last, resting his back against the bathtub as he lowered to the floor and held Komaeda closely against him.  
  
Komaeda clung, body cold and trembling. Gundham stripped of his coat to warm it.  
  
Now blanketed, the spirit seeped into his arms, melting puddle-like in a tired hush against his shoulder. Its arms still hung on to him, a peaceful, safe yawn escaping its lips.  
  
Despite how cold the ghost appeared to be, some aspect of holding him again warmed a suffering place inside Gundham’s heart.  
They were peaceful. He held him still.  
  
Childlike, Nagito nuzzled his face into Gundham’s neck, scattering meaningful kisses along his shoulder as his body curled into a tight ball beneath Gundham’s jacket.  
  
The Breeder ran a careful hand through his hair, finding himself daring to kiss its shoulder in return. Once, but no more.  
  
As Komaeda settled down and closed his eyes, one of his hands clasped around his shirt, holding on for security.  
  
Gundham wrapped his arms around it, ensuring it felt safe in its position there.  
  
Then he felt the soft sipping at his energy.  
It started subtly at first, but the longer he sat running his hands through its hair, the more he felt Nagito drinking his energy. Perhaps like a leech.  
  
He hesitated. Perhaps it was time to let the thing go — perhaps this was all a terrible deceit meant to drain him and exploit his grief.  
...And yet... perhaps this was its only form of comfort. He could tell the thing yearned for his touch. It needed his energy to feel calm and safe.  
The moment Gundham shifted with cautious action in response to the leeching, the ghost blinked up, face panicked and scared.  
  
With a soft shushing sound, Gundham settled back down. “My apologies,” he whispered. “I remain.”  
  
The ghost settled back down, drinking quietly at his energy again.  
And Gundham allowed it to nurse.  
  
Gundham considered asking it a question. Where did you come from? Where do you go when I’m not in the mirror?  
...But he didn’t. He allowed it rest, and he allowed it peace.  
  
...It had fallen asleep on him, and somehow Gundham felt relieved.  
He held it, gaining a quiet solace from having his soul so near, and allowed it to feed.  
  
Finally, he shifted slightly, causing the spirit to wake up.  
  
”Enough,” he said gently. “I can give you nothing more. My apologies.”  
  
It seemed confused - almost stricken. Perhaps its feeding off him had been a subconscious harvesting.  
It hadn’t meant him harm.  
It simply craved to be held.  
  
”I cannot remain here all night,” he admitted softly. “...Though I don’t suppose you’re well, wherever it is your soul rests. Need you my words?”  
  
It nodded desperately, holding him closer. A childish, helpless need.  
  
”You mustn’t stay simply to please me, if that is you, Nagito. I cannot allow you to suffer between worlds if heaven awaits.”  
He cupped its face, staring steadily into its eyes.  
”Your fate was not your fault. I hold no such thing against you.” If this wasn’t Nagito, then...  
A pang of doubt flashed through his mind, but whether or not it was him, Gundham _wanted_ him to know. He wanted to tell him to his face - just to make up for some self-loathing part of himself that hadn’t when he was living.  
  
”It... is alright that you did not win against your illness. ‘Twas not a sign of weakness, but of courage at your continued strength. Those who die in battle die honorably. You needn’t keep your promise... you were and always shall be my soul companion. If you cling to this realm for my sake, out of some pent-up guilt for absenting to your promises, then perish the thought. You’ve never failed me - not once. Rest if you can, I pray...” He studied its uncertain expression, the thing’s eyes welling with unborn tears.  
”I shall meet you in the afterlife when my time arrives, I promise.”  
  
His eyes dodged the mirror for a moment, and in that fraction of a second Nagito faded.  
Once his eyes returned Komaeda was there again, cradling himself against Gundham’s form as he pressed one last meaningful kiss to the soft square of skin beside Gundham’s lips.  
  
He mouthed something - something long, something Gundham couldn’t discern. It ended with what looked like an ‘I love you, I love you.’  
  
Then, as Gundham stood and lingered by the door, he looked away. Then back - for closure.  
  
Komaeda’s shape was gone.  
  
...  
  
Gundham released a grieving breath, a hand clutching his heart. How long had it been since he breathed?  
  
He exhaled the spirit, recollecting himself in a brief, healing moment.  
  
Perhaps for once the emptiness of the bed wouldn’t feel so painful.  
It was just a premonition - but a secure one.  
  
That was goodbye.


End file.
